[LACE CHALLENGE] the Queen of Peace - Printable Version +- HELOVIA || The Way to the Sun (http://helovia.com) +-- Forum: Out of Character (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: Archives (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11) +---- Forum: Battle Archives (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=64) +---- Thread: [LACE CHALLENGE] the Queen of Peace (/showthread.php?tid=20573) |
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[LACE CHALLENGE] the Queen of Peace - Mauja - 08-30-2015 but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
[ Continued from here. ]
Slowly, the embers of his rage reignited. Who was he, to come here, and say that Mauja needed to get over himself? Who was he, to come here, and act so high and mighty? Who was he, to come here, and demand to be let back into his old home? Mauja could see himself, battered and bruised and torn—burnt—coming here, to the realm of the Qian and demanding to be let back in. Laughable. They would've thrown him over the Edge in pieces, torn apart by the hungry dragonfangs, and that would've been the end of the Frostheart. Fuck. Off. He had tried. He had tried so fucking hard, and what had he gotten? Nearly put on trial for an accident that had haunted him. His love and close friend laid down as a carcass by a God supposed to protect them. Torleik. How dare he, something in Mauja's soul whispered, an echo bounding between three souls. How dare he, the rage whispered. "What he means to say is that he would love to stay here, pretty please and thank you." No. Liar liar. He meant what he said. She should learn to mean what she said, too—Nyx's friend or no.. it was too late. It had always been too late for them. Calm descended upon him as he stood there nose-to-nose with Lace—calm claimed him, spreading with both fire and ice through his veins as his heart pounded out a war beat. This ended now. Here and now, in the snow melting from the sun radiating above them, with Nyx as their witness. This was what he knew how to do. This was familiar, the promise of violence whispering in his blood like an old friend. Irma fell back, a ghost sailing on quiet feathers, but Diego swept in above the dragon's back—burning eyes trained on her, trying to read her every motion before she even made it. To always keep out the reach of her flame, her teeth, her body. Mauja was tired of rationality. He was tired of cold intellect. He was tired of quelling his rage, swallowing shards of ice and tongues of flame and growing colder and colder and colder. He was baited, but he wasn't going to just nibble. He was going to bite and swallow, fucking hook and all, until he'd made his way to the end of the line. Then, he would swallow Lace too, and the world would be a better place. Fuck. Off. He thought it for the thirteenth time that day, and then, the cool calm of his preparation shattered in violence. His rage was their rage. Their rage was his rage. And they would kill silently. There were no howls of rage—no words of challenge, a last plea for humility from the noble fool poised before him, nothing. It would just be death and the silence of winter. It took less than a heartbeat, his crowned head dipping down—he dove for Lace's neck, hoping to split his skin and embed his horn beneath the equine's left shoulder blade. Hoping to take him by enough of a surprise to drive its point all the way to his fucking heart and pierce it. Today would not know mercy. Ice erupted from the ground again, this time directly beneath Lace, three spires of hate and vengeance taller than both of them shooting for the sky—and in the sky itself, his youngest owl descended into his first real battle. Sharp talons extended into the air, seeking the wing joints of the dragon, his curved beak hunting for the base of her head. Irma glided on silently, watchful. Thoughtful. Waiting for her moment to strike. [ Pride challenge against @Lace ] [ 1/4 || 620 words. ] man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same RE: [LACE CHALLENGE] the Queen of Peace - Lace - 08-31-2015
@Mauja RE: [LACE CHALLENGE] the Queen of Peace - Mauja - 09-01-2015 but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams Release.
Letting out the pent-up fury. It was a powerful sensation, a blast of blinding light going off in his skull—something resonant, ringing, pounding and pulsing, throbbing. His heart spasmed with it, once, an uneven rush of blood through his veins; it was sickening ( He hated it, and he loved it. He loved it as much as he loved the beauty of blood running down the slick, clear edges of ice; he hated it as much as he hated the flaming reflection of the small sun in their cold depths. Hated it as much as he hated the heat lapping down on his back, sending waves of sweat running afresh. Lace's scream was just another wave to shake him to his core, a half-gasp coming out of his lungs—there was heat in his belly, exhilaration in his bloodstream, a complete, utter loss of sense. The only thing that existed was his bleeding, wounded prey—the sound of its pain music in the twisted pathways of his mind, the memory of it what drove him, what had him jerking forward half a step— More, his thoughts whispered hungrily. Lace's blood was beautiful as it fell in a darkening pool in the churned slush of the ruined snow. And then, he had no idea what happened. Instinct, he supposed—something as deep as his primal need for Lace's destruction. Blue eyes widened a fraction, grew clearer, nerve impulses running pathways with little conscious thought attached to them—and as the sun descended Mauja moved, finding some kind of traction beneath the melting snow. The orb crashed into the ground with a sense of finality, hot streaks of flame bursting out; Mauja's eyes had closed, head turned away, and he braced for— —nothing. A moment later his eyes opened. Soot did its best to cover up the carnage Lace's wound had left on the snow, the spikes shattered and melted upon the ground. For once, he had not been burned. And you know what? He felt drunk with relief, gagging on his laughter as he staggered sideways. What in the actual fuck had made him evade a fucking sunburst? Focus, he chided himself. Relief and delight were dangerous things, pushing out the mad blood-hunger, replacing it with, well—he didn't know, but he felt like strutting about Lace and laughing at him. But, he reminded himself, the bastard had survived a war with a broken leg, so... A few yards separated them, and Mauja wasn't sure how to close again. Magic? Lace was bound to be slower now, so he was more of an easy target, but magic was draining—so maybe just a plain charge? Why wasn't laughing at someone a valid attack? He cast a guilty glance at Nyx before opting for his second theory of just charging: slipped once in the early stages of it before finding his footing, and simply barreled towards Lace. Head low; horn first. Hitting any part of Lace would do, and if he could topple the bastard it would just be a fine bonus. In the air, Diego swerved sharply as the dragon's anticipated breath came. The flame passed him harmlessly, but he had lost his position, and it was too dangerous to go back in. In silence he fell back, keeping a ways away from Irma. No reason to play with fire and get them both burned. [ @Lace || 2/4 || 584 words. ] man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same RE: [LACE CHALLENGE] the Queen of Peace - Lace - 09-01-2015
@Mauja RE: [LACE CHALLENGE] the Queen of Peace - Mauja - 09-03-2015 but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams He wasn't entirely sure when he had traded madness for something less inspired, but he figured it had something to do with the aftermath of relief. Still, knowing was something one could do after, a time for reflection in the wake of the storms of war, but it irked him to run on faux anger when the man clad in wolf's gray belonged to such a hated faction of his past; he should be glorious in his thundering charge, a sunset full of blood and brilliance and heat pumping through his blood, not this.. this sense of performing a duty, closing the space between them again out of necessity rather than desire. The breath that had been so hot and harsh in the back of his throat wasn't exactly calmer, but there was no hunger in it anymore—no demands for Lace's blood.
Really, he would rather be picking daisies somewhere right now than do this. What would they say if he broke off now? What would Lace think? Damn; he should've taken the chance when he had it, after the sunburst, when he still had the upper hand, when he could've gotten away with it— It was about how far in his thoughts he got before his horn pierced thin air, and his chest slammed into Lace's retreating ass. Instinct had his neck curve right; silken hairs tickled his face, and a hard tail bone knocked lightly against his jaw. Friction rubbed him warm as the spindly butt slid against his left shoulder, before the slush of the ground took over and sent the intruder spinning away from him. All it did was tear a grunt from him, and tease his frustrations. What the hell am I doing here? He was supposed to be a soldier; fuck, he'd been a general and won wars, he.. he.. he wasn't some diddering old fool going through the dumb motions with all the inspiration of a dead squirrel. Well, tough luck—it was who he was for the day, hind-legs coiling to break his awkward momentum. He hated slush. He hated the muck-and-mud of spring, of his precious snow being soiled, of— Get a fucking grip on yourself. As quick as he could he spun to the right, and two things happened almost at once: a thin, snaking pain started to creep up his left flank, and Lace said something very important. Time slowed to a crawl as the root's tip split white skin in a fine line, pearly red seeping out to the slow chorus of nerves starting to scream. The way his heart skipped a beat in fear and surprise was drowned out by the low roar of the waking beast within. Torasin, he thought, teeth gritting against the blooming pain, even as something deeper whispered you were blind, you were blind to the attack, you evaded the brunt of it by dumb luck—Torasin, his breath seemed to say as he darted for the smaller stallion trapped between an avalanche of budding rage and a tree. Torasin, he snarled silently, a swan of fire exploding out of his chest and nearly blinding him as it sped towards the gray stallion, singeing Mauja's mane and throat as it went. (He came here, he demanded, he baited and provoked, and then, finally—he took the culmination of their twisted "truths" and spat it like damnation at him. At him, the one who had been haunted by what had transpired, haunted by images of that gold-and-cream gentleman frozen in mid-step, blooding running down an ice spike, he dared come here and take that and fling it at him like truth—) Because didn't you know, that all the evil in Helovia had a single root: Mauja? His eyes were ablaze with blue rage as he dug his hind feet into the muck, pulling his forefront up into the air; the thin flow of red from his flank grew thicker with the motions, the pain a dull echo lost in the haze of his anger. (Because it was fucking unfair—) Frosted hooves pummeled down, hoping to catch the shorter stallion's spine, and beat him to the ground. To show them what real murder looked like. (Because Torasin had been an accident.) [ @Lace || 3/4 || 707 words. ] man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same RE: [LACE CHALLENGE] the Queen of Peace - Lace - 09-06-2015
@Mauja RE: [LACE CHALLENGE] the Queen of Peace - Mauja - 09-07-2015 but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams Die.
It was the first time in a long, long time that Mauja had thought it, so clearly, so viscerally, a single kill-command echoing through the blazing fury of his mind: die. He had meant it before—when those three spikes had broken the ground beneath Lace's body, they had risen with that single, common goal. Destruction. The end of something. But it had been a fickle rage, as tentative and wavering as a candle in the wind, a spur-of-the-moment attempt on the gray's life. This.. this was deeper. This was a slow demand vibrating in his bones, a certainty plaguing his soul with each slow movement made; with each breath exhaled through wide, black nostrils. Today would be the day Lace died. Today would be the day Mauja put his hoof down. He wasn't interested in Lace's pain, in his screams of agony as the fire-swan blasted into his bleeding flank; he wasn't interested in watching the gray drop into the snow in a mindless attempt to relieve his pain. He wasn't interested in the dominance, in the humiliation. The only thing he was interested in was turning Lace into a corpse. He had lived with the brands the Qian had put on him for far too long. (The worst of it was that they hadn't dared brand him these things when he had actually represented some of it.) The golden idiot rolled in the snow to get away from Mauja; his weight crashed into the unforgiving ground as the gray staggered upright, the owls blaring warnings in his head at the same time. His white skull swung to the side—he saw the dragon—exploded out of the way, the burst of superheated flame narrowly missing him. Some of the hairs of his tail curled and simply melted from the proximity, but once again, he had somehow dodged fire. What in the actual fuck was going on. But he didn't let the relief claim him again—he spurred himself on, latched onto the swift form of Fajira with his mind, bombarding her veins with ice crystals simply to put her out of the game for a bit before releasing her, like a play-thing he had grown tired of. She would die with Lace anyway. He wasn't going to savor the moment. He wasn't going to say dramatic things like, this ends now, or prepare to die, or any pretentious shit like that. He was too old for dramatic flairs. He just wanted it over and done with, this threat removed for forever. His body steamed in the deepening dark, white breath smoking out as he exhaled—inhaled—moved again, in sync with his magic. Three spires of ice, just shy of Lace himself in height, rose on Lace's far side, one by his flank, one slightly in front, one behind—a trap, as neat as any he had ever laid, a cage for the gold-backed fool of a wolf. Because on the other side, where there was no ice, was Mauja. He charged him from a collected trot, not wanting to risk breaking his legs on the foul terrain, and besides, between the ice and his injuries Lace ought to be slow enough that he wouldn't need to take a step or two of full-blown canter to reach him. It wasn't like all of Helovia lay between them—just a few yards. Ears flat, blue eyes blazing with an anger that was slipping off its leash, Mauja aimed to punch his horn in between Lace's ribs—into his heart—even as the ground erupted again in a last, exhaustive push: two ice spikes rose beneath Lace, hoping to puncture his chest and abdomen, as he let the other three fall. Die, he thought again, determination a flame roaring in his mind. (Die now, he thought, because this is pretty damn draining.) [ @Lace || 4/4 || 643 words. ] man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same RE: [LACE CHALLENGE] the Queen of Peace - Lace - 09-07-2015
@Mauja - Thank you for a good fight! It was fun, even though it went horribly xD RE: [LACE CHALLENGE] the Queen of Peace - Mauja - 09-07-2015 but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams Die, Mauja thought.
Yes, the flames answered, and kissed him with all the tenderness of razors and hunting lions. He knew it. He had fucking known this would happen, that he had dodged fire not once but twice just for it to come back and bite him in the ass. Oh gods, he had known it would've happened, but he thought he had taken care of that—that it would've been fine because he'd sent the dragon careening into the soft snow, he... He should've learned that nothing ever was what it seemed. His horn skidded and slid against solid silver scales, finding no purchase, and for a moment—that moment before yet another gout of flame lit up the night—he had thought that he would run headfirst into the hulking beast. Then— —fire. Roaring, biting agony, hell's scourge flicking along his skin—the reek of burning hair, of sizzling flesh, the low, violent mumble of the flames themselves. He knew that too, that feeling, that pain—and he knew the way in which it encompassed everything, overwhelmed every sense, bit and bit and bit and bit, and— Somehow, he did not stagger. Somehow, he did not scream (shock). Somehow, he just fucking stood there and stared as ice punched into the body of a dragon, one by one. Until the dragon toppled, ice snapping off and sticking out of him in a macabre display of the violence that had transpired. Mauja remained where he was—short-circuited in every way. Charred flesh with blackened edges, angry swathes of red and slowly weeping blood covered the better part of his neck and shoulder on the left side, tapering off towards his flank. He hated pain. He hated being burnt. He didn't care that he had won—that it seemed he had killed a fucking dragon—didn't care at all. All he could think of was the blast of light that came before the torment, the split moment in which he was still whole but knew what was to happen— All he could feel, was the heat crawling deeper, destroying more, chewing its way into his soul— He was so fucking tired, placing ice in his own veins to stop the fire's rampage but barely able to summon a thing, his tears fucking vaporized as nothing fell from his eyes. "Fuck. You." he finally whispered at the downed dragon, before closing his eyes—standing still to lull his screaming nerves, fighting to keep a hold of himself in the face of the agony thrumming through him. In the back of his mind, he knew that Torleik was there. And somehow, he had the time to wonder if the black King would condemn him for what he had done. [ @Lace || Closing defense || 457 words. ] man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same RE: [LACE CHALLENGE] the Queen of Peace - Blu - 09-07-2015 Mauja defeats Lace. Mauja earns 1 vp and pride, Lace earns 1 exp. Because of the large HP gap and especially because Lace ended the fight unconscious Mauja was declared victor without rubric. However the fighters have requested a rubric for feedback which will be provided in the future. |